


Delirium

by GalaxyGhosty



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dark Character, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hate you,” Jack hissed through gritted teeth. “I wish you'd die.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delirium

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a bit of a rough night. Takin' it out on Jack.
> 
> Sorry, buddy. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_It felt peaceful._

_He was laying in the grass, his head inclined towards the sky. The day was overcast, but the sun still poked through every now and again, warming his cheeks. Birds chirped, and the wind blew, softly, just softly, enough to cool the air around him, but not enough to make him cold._

_This was what he lived for, he thought. He lived for these moments, these peaceful little snippets of life where he could do nothing but relax. Where he wasn't stressed about his job, his family, his friends—anything. He could just be without anything attached._

_A dragonfly buzzed into his line of sight, and he almost laughed. On instinct, he held out his finger, so still and careful. It flapped its little wings around him for a moment before it settled on his outstretched finger. He stared at it in awe, the same childish wonder filling him as it did when he was a boy, doing the same thing in the backyard with his brothers and sisters when they taught him how to do it._

_He was still, so still. And right before his eyes, it burst into flames._

_He screamed. He sat up, and suddenly, everything before him was catching fire. The trees, the grass, the land. The birds became skeletons, their shrill cries piercing his ears. He covered them. The sky was turning red, the clouds looking like piles of ashes and soot._

_He couldn't breathe. He looked around him but there was nowhere to go—everything was ablaze._

_Fire—Fire—Fire--!_

_“Wake up, Jacky-boy!”_

Jack woke up. He struggled to breathe as he felt cold water seeping through his clothes. Instinctively, he raised his hands to wipe the water from his cheeks and eyes, but found himself unable to. He looked down at his wrists, and grimaced at the leather straps binding him to a chair. He wiggled his feet and felt the same resistance, and knew that his ankles were in the same predicament.

He really didn't want to go through this again. His body was still healing from the last time. Jack didn't know if he could endure another 'session'.

_'Maybe that's what he wants,'_ a voice whispered in his mind. _'Maybe he wants to get rid of you to move on to another play thing.'_

Jack's eyes scanned the area briefly, noticing the haphazardly thrown bucket in the corner of the room, water still dripping from it. In another moment, he found the face of his tormentor, who smiled at him wickedly.

“Hello, Jacky-boy,” he cooed, walking closer to him.

Oh, how Jack wished he could punch him right in the face. “Don't _fucking_ come near me.”

A hand reached out, grabbing him by the chin and forcing his head upwards. His tormentor clicked his tongue. “I'm so sad that you don't call me Mark anymore. Your manners have really gone downhill, _love_.”

“You aren't Mark,” Jack hissed. “No reason to call you what you aren't.”

“Mark” rolled his eyes, letting go of his face with a scowl. He turned his back towards him and walked to a corner of the room, beyond Jack's line of sight. “Say what you will. It doesn't change anything.”

Jack lolled his head back, trying not to look at him. The ceiling was dimly lit, and he couldn't count how many times he'd looked at that ceiling and _prayed_ it would catch on fire, just so it would collapse, just so it would _kill_ the _monster_ that pretended he was Mark Fischbach.

Because he wasn't. He couldn't be. 

The Mark he knew was sweet, generous, and always looked out for other people above himself. He was selfless and loyal, and he loved fully and wholeheartedly. The thing that walked around in front of him was nothing more than a demented, twisted demon that cared for nothing but himself, and only cared about getting what he wanted.

He didn't know what had happened. Him and Mark had been so deliriously happy with one another. All had been going perfectly. Jack hadn't noticed anything strange, not really. Sure, there were times where Mark began to say things that hadn't made all that much sense (dark things, strange things), and sure, there were times where Mark was a little rougher with him when they had sex (but nothing Jack was severely uncomfortable with), but it hadn't been anything _really_.

Until it was. Until once, Jack kissed him and looked into his eyes, and saw nothing of the man he'd fallen in love with.

_(Where had he gone?)_

Footsteps approached. Jack rolled his head back down, just to get a feel for the kind of hell he was going to be put through _today_. Before he could get a proper look, “Mark” grabbed a fistful of his hair, craning his neck upwards as he pressed something cold to his skin. A knife. Jack tried not to breathe.

The demon towered over him, his dark eyes meeting his own. Jack tried to relay all of the burning hatred and disgust he felt for the man touching him into one sole look. 

The man chuckled. “Your eyes would be so beautiful if they weren't so filled with hatred. Why do you hate me so much, Jack?”

“Because you're a fucking arsehole,” Jack snarled. “And twisted. And a sick fuck. Need I go on?” 

He laughed again, gripping harder on his hair, pulling at the scalp. Jack tried not to wince, knowing it would give the demon pleasure. He removed the knife from his neck and dropped it on the floor next to him with a _clang_ , and he used that free hand to brush Jack's cheek. 

“But I love you _so_ much,” he whispered, and as if to spite him, he kissed him. 

Jack wanted to bite him. He wanted to spit in his mouth and tear off his lips. He wanted to make him hurt, he wanted him to go away, but after a moment, his body fought against him. The demon's kiss was gentle and loving, just like Mark's, and Jack could remember the taste of those lips. For a moment he could almost forget he wasn't bound to a chair, in pain and with hatred burning in his heart for the love he'd lost. For a moment he kissed back, losing himself in the memory, the sweet memory of _his_ Mark, the one that he loved. 

As if taking advantage of his relapse, the demon moved his hands and sunk his nails into his cheek, causing Jack to gasp in shock. He slipped his tongue inside of his mouth and his kiss grew hungrier, more controlling, as if claiming him for his own.

And Jack hated himself more and more as he kissed back, moaning into it, knowing that this wasn't his Mark but unable to stop himself. He wanted more of him, he wanted to be kissed deeper and rougher and to be loved again and again. He could feel his body reacting to the stimulation, heat crawling up his neck and pooling at the base of his stomach.

But after a beat, “Mark” pulled away, and licking his lips, he smirked at his captive as Jack hung his head. His cheeks flushed in anger, and he clenched his fists.

“I hate you,” Jack hissed through gritted teeth. “I wish you'd die.”

“So you say,” the demon mumbled, grinning all the way while leaning down to pick up his dropped knife. “So you say.”

He was still grinning as he raised the weapon up, and plunged it down towards him.

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work, but hey. 
> 
> Also I keep doing sporadic edits on this, so if you read it once, come back to it, and notice it's changed, you're not goin' crazy.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
